Dalton Boys Academy
by KehRawwr
Summary: Dalton Boys Academy specialises in rehabilitating teenagers who've suffered as a result of any personal problem they may have faced; despite this however, it is a prestigious and respected school. It is also the last place Kurt Hummel wanted to end up. Klaine AU. Full summary inside. Rated for language and references to sex. Disclaimer - I don't own Glee. At all. Not even a bit..
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so I promise I'll keep this little prelude short and sweet – I hate writing things before a chapter so hopefully this'll be the only one._

_**(As promised) Full Summary****: Kurt Hummel was unique; he was fabulous and talented and liked everyone to know it. Kurt Hummel ****was****all of that, but now he's become quiet, withdrawn and content to simply fade into the background, but that's just what being bullied can do to your morale.**_

**_Kurt has now been sent to Dalton Boys Academy – a school specialising in rehabilitating teenagers whose self-esteem has been affected by a personal problem they have faced. Burt Hummel hopes that the school will help his Son to regain his confidence in time to bloom in college and live his dreams; Kurt just hopes to make it through the school to put his Father's worries to rest._**

**_The last thing, however, that Kurt expects is to find unity in a group of mismatched teenagers he will soon come to call his friends, and he certainly doesn't expect to find anything on top of that – but lady luck seems to be handing him a chance at love too. Now, if only Kurt could figure out the enigma that is Blaine Anderson, maybe, just maybe, they could both have a shot at being happy here._**

**_Klaine AU. Whump will most definitely by present at some point.  
I suppose some of the boys stories could be slightly triggery, so be warned. _**

_I would also like to take this chance to inform you all that this fic will have a companion fic in the form of Blaine's diary/journal – which will be entirely Blaine's POV, first person (challenge :O)_  
_Although – as to not spoil any of the plot, I won't be starting to post the diary until this story gets underway properly. I'll put a little notification in the chapter I post closest to the time the diary gets uploaded. _

* * *

Transferring to a new school is always difficult; transferring to a school which specialises in 'helping troubled teenage boys to find themselves' is worse, especially when you're not nearly half as screwed up as some of the kids there. In the few minutes it took Kurt and his Father to find the main office, they'd walked past two boys who were so zoned out they seemed to have created their own personal slow motion time-zone, one who spontaneously punched a locker mid conversation with a peer, and one who just walked past, quite calmly, while tears silently tracked their way down his cheeks. Kurt had spent the entire walk glancing at his Father, one eyebrow raised, and muttering about how he really didn't need to be here.

Once they'd arrived at the main office his Father, Burt, had been taken into the administration's office to look over a few last-minute pieces of paperwork, and Kurt had been left to sit – on an armchair that was far too comfortable to be school property– and wait until he was needed. The hallway he was waiting in was better decorated than the interior Kurt had been working on in his bedroom for the last three years and everything looked designer, even though he was loathed to admit it, Kurt was impressed.

There were a few other boys waiting in the same hallway – presumably all new transfer students just like Kurt. From what Kurt could understand of the school, they obviously received a high number of transfers from year to year, making him just another number in the schools statistics._  
_  
He sighed wearily and fiddled absentmindedly with the pamphlet Carole – his Step-Mother – had given him a few weeks previously. She'd picked it up on the last trip that herself and Burt had made to ensure Kurt's place at Dalton Boys Academy and had asked him to promise that he would read it before he left for Dalton. Though he hadn't really promised anything – opting instead just to murmur a vague sound of acknowledgment when Carole had handed him the pamphlet – he did feel slightly guilty for not having read it prior to coming here as requested. He'd spent hours just toying with the corners of it, but he never actually opened it. Opening and reading it would be like accepting that the only place he had left was Dalton; it would be like accepting that there was something wrong.

Now however, it didn't matter. Kurt was at Dalton, enrolled for his entire junior year, and it wouldn't make a difference if he read the pamphlet or not. Feigning a casual disinterest and trying very hard not to focus on what could be deduced about his mental state, given that he had actually accepted that Dalton was his new home, he flipped open the pamphlet.

_Dalton Academy enjoys a superb reputation for rehabilitating and educating troubled teenage boys in a safe and friendly atmosphere. We proudly boast our zero-tolerance policy towards bullying of any kind and unity is advocated with group challenges and team-work exercises. Our staff are fully trained to deal with all manner of mental, physical or educational needs and each year our senior year group graduates with one of the highest GPA averages in the State._

And there is was, the reason his Father was so sold on Kurt enrolling at Dalton Academy. Regardless of their mental or physical condition, boys from Dalton always graduated with high GPAs and were often accepted into their first choice of college with open arms. Add to this the array of extra-and-non-curricular activities available at the Academy and colleges were practically rolling out the red carpet for Dalton students. Burt Hummel had decided that, even though Kurt had 'lost his spark' recently, his son should have the best possible chance of getting into whichever college he should choose. Kurt had briefly mentioned his interest in NYADA, and some of the fashion or music courses in New York, so it was obvious that wherever Kurt applied to, it would be highly competitive. This was the only thing about Dalton, aside from to put his Father's mind at rest, that had convinced Kurt to attend.

Dalton wasn't a reform school, very few of the boys here had actually ever committed an offense, and if they had it'd been ruled out as being a consequence of their mental state, and therefore most of the boys here were fairly upstanding citizens. They are the victims rather than the reprobates, if that is how you must view it. Kurt didn't want to see it that way; he didn't want to let himself be a victim. He couldn't afford think of himself as any weaker than he already was.

_At Dalton we provide a comfortable area for education for over five-hundred pupils through from freshman to senior year. Pupils can relax at Dalton, and feel welcomed regardless of their current personal situation. We can help any boy who has struggled at their previous High School, be it due to anything from mild depression, to severe mental/physical conditions._

If Kurt hadn't felt out of place to begin with, he certainly did now. Kurt didn't have any major issues or disabilities, he was simply shy, and not even cripplingly so. He was nervous being around other people his age, or people who were physically stronger than him due to a problem he'd had with bullying in his sophomore year. He didn't like being alone with people who could easily overpower him – which was pretty much any boy his age or older as Kurt was, happily, slender and fairly short. It was the sort of nervous that made him want to melt into the background and become invisible, not the sort that had him going doolally and talking to himself.

The real reason Kurt was here was because he'd 'lost his spark' as a result of the bullying. His Father had spent the better half of the Kurt's sophomore year asking him what was wrong and telling him he didn't seem like himself. So what if Kurt wasn't dressing as flamboyantly as he used to, he just wanted to blend in more so that the bullies wouldn't take so much notice of him. Kurt used to take pride in picking out his outfit every day, making sure that everything matched and that the outfit was balanced, but still made a statement. Apparently going from wearing hot pink Doc. Martens to monochrome – but still fabulously stylish – dress shoes and toning down the vivid coloured scarves was rather out of character for him.

Another thing Kurt used to take pride in was his singing. His passion for musicals was unrivalled and he used to be quite content to waltz down the hallway softly singing along to which ever song it was that was currently playing on his iPod. He never told his father that when the bullying got worse, his iPod had been broken when he was shoved viciously into a locker during a class change-over.

Kurt had stopped singing in school altogether by the end of his sophomore year. It was when he'd quit New Directions that his Father finally insisted on Kurt sitting down with him and discussing everything properly. He'd told his Father that he'd quit New Directions because singing in a glee club isn't quite so easy when you never feel gleeful. He'd told his Father that there'd been days where he'd faked an illness just so he didn't have to go into school. He'd told his Father that he stopped dressing as he wanted to because he knew people wouldn't accept him for who he was.

After that it hadn't taken Burt Hummel more than a week to discover Dalton Academy and convince himself it was the best place for his son and, as sad as Kurt was to leave his friends and resign himself to living in crazy town, the knowledge that he would be somewhere with a zero-tolerance policy for bullying had taken a significant weight off his shoulders. He didn't expect to fit in here, but he did think that he could at least be comfortable.

He was just about to turn the page and read up on Dalton's group-activity programmes when Burt came striding out of the admin office and slumped down in the chair next to him, causing the cushion to let out a fair puff of air.

"How's it going buddy?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow at his father before replying:

"Oh well, aside from resigning myself to a year's worth of crazy-school, I'm absolutely fabulous Dad."

His father smirked affectionately at his son. Kurt had been, and still was, a master of sarcasm – only now he was only confident enough to use it around his family and his best friends. Whenever Kurt snapped back a slightly sardonic retort, his father would always smile at him like he used to.

"Oh, you'll love it Kiddo. The lady I was just talking to-" Burt jerked his head in the direction of the admin office "- told me that everyone thinks this place is a nut-house until they start. All of the kids here are very smart and hardworking."

"Oh the joys of going to a school full of bizarre nerds."

Burt looked at his Son seriously; he knew the words were light hearted enough but a sober expression had just run through his eyes and Kurt knew what was coming. Before his Father could burst into a speech about how worried he was about Kurt or why Dalton would do him some good, Kurt started speaking.

"Honestly Dad, I know you're worried about me and I am grateful that you care so much, I really am. It's just, I- I don't think I'm the sort of person that should be here Dad. You've seen the place – and in comparison, I'm fine."

"Kurt... You're not fine. Heck, even Finn's noticed something's wrong and the only thing that boy ever notices is when Carole's restocked the fridge."

Kurt snorted, slightly unattractively, at this before Burt continued.

"You're not fine Kurt, and I'm worried – and don't say that you're grateful I'm worried because it's _my job_to worry about you. You may feel like you don't fit in right now but, this place, it's more normal than you think. I reckon you might like it here, and being here's going to help you Kurt. It really will, you deserve all the help this place has to offer – and you deserve it just as much as the next kid here. Kurt, you deserve the World and more, I'm just making sure you get it. If coming here's going to get you back on your feet and into all your fancy colleges then I'm more than willing to pay the tuition for you to be here."

Kurt blinked, trying not to cry, because honestly, Kurt was _very_emotional right now.

"You know I'm only here for your sake, right Dad?"

Burt sighed. "Yes Son, I know. And I know you're gonna do your old man proud too."

There was a moment after that, brief though it may have been, where the two just looked at each other. Where all the pain and happiness the two had shared over the years shone in each of their eyes, brought to a head by the impending separation – though only partial – of the two; and then the moment was over and the door to the Principals office swung open, heralding the arrival of a short plump man with a greying moustache.

"Ahhh, Mr Hummel!" The man exclaimed jovially whilst extending his hand. "And Kurt, I take it." The Principal stood aside and allowed the two of them to enter his office in front of him, all the while grinning welcomingly.

Kurt took the seat furthest from the Principals desk, leaving the seat directly in front of the desk for his Father. Burt gave his son a knowing look before taking it. The Principal settled himself in behind the desk, leant back in his chair and smiled even wider than before.

"Kurt, it's nice to finally meet you." He began. "Welcome to Dalton Academy, I'm Mr. Nieves and I'm – obviously – the Principal here. "

"Nice to meet you, Sir." Kurt murmured.

"You too, Kurt, you too." He assured. "Now, I realise that it's a bit daunting starting at a new school, but I think you should understand that this school gets a lot of transfers, into any year and at any time during the year. In fact, this year there have been seventeen kids transferring into junior year, your year, alone not to mention the other years." He smiled again before adding "And I have to greet them all today! You're only the third."

"Busy day for you then." Burt commented "And the term's not even officially begun."

Today was the first Monday of September, and it was simply a day for the students to move back into their dorms and catch up with, or make new, friends. The term would officially begin tomorrow, though it was only a half day, mainly comprised of a whole-school assembly and group-activities to promote friendships.

"Indeed, which is why, I'm afraid, this greeting will be have to be brief, I hope you understand."

"Yes, of course, we understand." Burt sympathised.

"Right, well-"The Principal beckoned to someone on the other side of the door and, as it opened, he continued. "This is Jeffery Lynch, also in junior year. He'll be your roommate, and as he was here last year, he's agreed to show you around today to help you get your bearings."

Kurt turned in his chair to take in the newcomer. His hair was, mercifully, neat and swept across his face and, Kurt was nearly convinced, the blonde colour came from a bottle. He was dressed casually, in worn out clothes and sneakers, and his foot was tapping the floor with a nervous energy.

"Just Jeff is fine." He announced striding across the room with vigour and shaking Kurt's hand enthusiastically before clapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Kurt." Was all Kurt could reply, smiling uneasily.

"Oh, don't look so worried! We're actually pretty normal for a bunch of nutters." Jeff giggled – yes, _giggled _– with all the energy of a hyperactive kitten.

"Jeffery, please at least try to refrain from insulting the entire school this year." The Principal warned in a long-suffering tone, wary of him causing Burt or Kurt alarm, but contrarily, Kurt had found what Jeff said to be vaguely amusing and had consequently relaxed. Burt allowed himself a wry smile before turning back to the Principal.

"Thank you very much for your time Mr. Nieves." Burt extended his hand and the two men shook.

The Principal ushered the three others out of his office swiftly, whilst still retaining his decorum. Kurt couldn't help but notice the final look of warning he shot at Jeff, who also noticed it and gave the Principal what Kurt could only call a 'butter-wouldn't-melt' look. Once they were safely out in the hallway Jeff rolled his eyes dramatically before turning and smiling fully at the two Hummel's.

"Right then, our dorm is on the second floor of B-block, which is that one just over there." Jeff pointed out of the huge bay window on their right towards a separate building some two-hundred or-so yards from the one they were in now. "Your stuff has been taken up already for you – which I helped with, by the way, and can I just ask, _what the hell was in those bags? _It was like hauling Thad up the stairs, I was sweating by the end and it's not my fault if I'm not that in-shape! Oh, but you don't know Thad yet so I suppose that reference meant nothing to you..." The boy tailed off slightly before giving himself a little shake and continuing "You'll meet him soon enough though, caring guy, kinda quiet. Built like a brick-house, has tonnes of muscles from when he was a swimmer. He represented the State once, you know? Oh but I suppose you don't want to hear all about him on your first day, sorry – I've digressed... I do that."

Jeff seemed to talk at about a hundred-miles-an-hour and he walked even faster. Both Burt and Kurt felt empathetically out of breath by the time they had reached the end of the corridor.

"Well, anyway, the point of that original statement was – as your bags have already been taken up, I was going to take you on a tour of the campus before heading back to the dorm – not normally the way people prefer to do it, but this way your Dad can come and see the place too." Jeff suggested airily.

Burt was impressed with the idea, as he wasn't allowed into the dorm blocks unless he got specific permission from the faculty, but such permission was only given out when a student was ill or injured – going on the tour first meant that he could accompany the two boys and delay leaving Kurt for a little while longer.

The tour continued in much the same way as it had started, with Jeff leading them speedily down hallways and through classrooms, all the while talking rapidly and with barely a break – both Kurt and Burt were left wondering if the boy ever stopped to take a breath, or if he'd just perfected the unique art of breathing in through his nose, whilst talking.

Kurt had to admit that Dalton was very impressive; grand architecture, homely furnishings and an all over unified atmosphere, despite the fact that each student here was so different. The campus was fairly large and, even at Jeff's pace, it took nearly two hours to cover every classroom and office and dorm block. Once the time came for Burt to leave, both Father and Son were so exhausted that it wasn't quite as upsetting as it probably should have been.

Well, maybe the fact that Kurt had actually started to like the idea of being a Dalton student helped the parting somewhat.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I should probably stop these, or I'll get a reputation for incessant nattering post-chapter..._

_I did try to 'American-ise' my spelling and language for this fic in the beginning, but hey – It's called the __English language for a reason – so I figured I'd just stick with writing and spelling as I am comfortable doing and just use the American words for some things._

_Sorry if some things aren't quite right, I have no idea how American High Schools work or the subjects they offer – though I don't think they don't offer religious studies or ethics and philosophy or something along those lines, am I right? Heck, I don't even know how the American Dollar translates to the Pound..._

_Also – shit my wrist hurts from typing right now... Thought you'd like to know ._  
_(I've just typed 3 chapters of this – and some of the Diary :O ... But unfortunately I typed chapters one, three and four so... I'll have to get working on two before you get a bumper update ;) – why did I not do it in order?)_


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Kurt awoke to some ominous sounding thuds and clunks which turned out to be the sounds Jeff made when he was trying to be quiet. Kurt raised his head to stare groggily at Jeff who froze where he stood, halfway out the door and still pulling on a sock. He smiled sheepishly at Kurt before straightening up and apologising.

"Sorry, I was trying to be quiet..."

"I feared as much..." Kurt groaned as he rolled to check his clock. "Jeff, you realise that it's five-thirty, right?"

"Yep – and I'm late. Well, I mean, I'm not late because there's no set time for me to start, but I'm later than I normally am." The boy was nearly tripping over his own words in his eagerness to get going.

It wasn't difficult to figure out that Jeff was going on an early morning run, especially considering the fact he was wearing a very small pair of running shorts and had his trainers dangling from his right hand. Despite the fact that it was an un-Godly hour in the morning Jeff was, once again, exuding a strange amount of energy and impatience.

"Alright, just go Jeff." Kurt grunted as he buried his face into his pillow. He heard the muffled sound of the door closing and of Jeff's footsteps disappearing down the hallway. Kurt lay there, his breathing hindered by the pillow covering his mouth, debating whether he should smother himself with said pillow before the introductory day began. Kurt, after opening up to the idea of Dalton yesterday, had come full circle during the night and was now back to hating even the thought of the place.

Kurt swore softly under his breath and rolled out of his bed – if he was going to have to face this day, then he might as well look absolutely perfect for it, which meant starting to get ready even earlier than normal. He gasped slightly as his feet came into contact with the cool stone floor of the dorm and hurriedly hopped onto the nearby rug. He made a mental note to either pull the rug closer to his bed later or invest in some slippers in order to save his toes from any potential amputations in the future.

Though the assembly didn't begin until nine-thirty, the canteen stopped serving any breakfast after seven-forty-five, so that gave Kurt less than two hours to shower, moisturise, blow-dry and style his hair and get changed. He managed the former two in record speed and by the time Jeff had got back he was laying out his uniform on his bed, mentally preparing himself to actually wear the same outfit as not just one, but hundreds of other boys.

Jeff grinned knowingly at Kurt as he pulled at the edges of his blazer; no matter how much he played with it, it simply didn't feel like it was sitting right – which was strange considering the quality of the materials and the high-class air of the school. Jeff informed Kurt that the Dalton blazers felt a bit weird when they were new, but that after a few days they always started to adapt to each person's frame.

Jeff led Kurt down to the dining hall, talking about everything and nothing all at once. At several different times during the conversation Jeff had mentioned the name of another boy who must be at the school, and each time it was in relation to a particular anecdote or joke and, honestly, Kurt was feeling more and more lost with each name mentioned.

The two sat on a large table in a corner of the dining hall with their trays – Kurt's had muesli, an apple and a glass of milk balanced on it while Jeff's was piled high with a full cooked breakfast and a large coffee. Kurt watched, taken aback, as Jeff emptied four packets of sugar into the cup, before stirring it enthusiastically.

"Should you really be putting that much sugar in there?" Kurt asked astounded.

"No..." A guilty look crossed Jeff's face before it changed swiftly into one of mischief "In fact, I shouldn't really be putting any in, but I haven't been able to put sugar in my coffee for _ages_ so I figured once in a while can't hurt."

"Jeff, am I going to get in trouble for letting you put sugar in that?" Kurt queried as the other boy took a large swig of the sugary concoction.

"Not if you don't tell anyone... especially not Wes or David. Or Thad." Jeff replied, all the while looking around frantically. The three names were ones Kurt recognised, but only from Jeff's incessant talking.

The two boys sat and ate slowly; all the while Jeff's leg jigged restlessly under the table, occasionally knocking against one of Kurt's knees. Strangely enough, Kurt didn't find this annoying.

"So, I never did get around to asking, why did you get landed here?" Jeff asked, before hurriedly adding "Oh, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I really, really wanna know."

"I was bullied." Kurt said matter-of-factly as he finished his apple.

"Oh."

"What?"

"Well, I don't know... It's just, you're not really the 'I was bullied' type."

"There's a type?"

"Yeah. Quiet types, don't like to talk so much and don't make friends so easy, y'know? You learn to spot them after being here for a while."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"No don't worry. Go on then – tell me about the types."

"It's stereotypical, but labelling in this way kinda works at this school. Everyone here tends to act within their typecast..."

"Go on."

"Well, the quiet ones have confidence issues. The ones that don't talk so much are nervous that they'll say the wrong thing and get harassed because of it. The ones that don't hang around with people don't trust 'em, probably cause they were bullied or abused. The ones whose smile doesn't reach their eyes don't want anyone to know there's something wrong – though there's not many of them here cause once you're here everyone knows something's wrong with you. The ones who are loud or over-friendly are either compensating for something or have a disorder. It goes on, people who don't eat are scared they'll get fat, kids who don't sleep have insomnia etcetera. Kids who're new try and hide why they're here, and kids who've been here for a year plus resign themselves to being honest." Jeff reeled the list off with a mouthful of egg.

"And do you mind me asking which type you are?"

"Dude, I have ADHD. I would've thought it was at least a little obvious."

"Oh. Well, no I just... I thought ADHD kids were a little more..."

"...A little more..?"

"Obnoxious." Kurt answered apologetically.

Jeff let out a vociferous laugh which caused a few heads to turn towards their table, shocked.

"Your face! Dude that was class." Jeff giggled, eyes watering slightly from the laughter. "I was, and I can be, really obnoxious sometimes. I just... being here helped me become a little more socially aware is all."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it man, I'm used to it. Y'know I was kicked out of my old school? They weren't exactly understanding of my condition, they didn't offer me any help at all, just a warning and then nothing. I did try, but sometimes... It's impulsive, almost like an instinct. Before I knew it, I'd have opened my mouth and proclaimed just how bored I was. I had trouble focusing. I was... disruptive and the school didn't want to deal with me anymore. My parents have pretty good jobs, so they could afford Dalton fees. I came here, and after a while I just started getting a bit better at managing it. Like this-" He gestured to his coffee "- I really shouldn't have done this... Sugar can have some pretty negative effects on me. I just can't stand black coffee."

"And getting up ridiculously early? Does that tire you out sufficiently enough?" Kurt asked jokily.

"I don't wake up early intentionally; I just don't like sleeping too much. I find if I go out on a run as soon as I wake up I'm a little calmer throughout the day... unless I then have a massive coffee." Jeff smiled as he poked his tongue out and took another sip.

There was a slight pause in conversation where Kurt battled with his wills. He didn't really want to go around admitting to all of his problems, because he didn't want to acknowledge them, but somehow he trusted Jeff. Besides, Jeff said that kids who knew the score here didn't try and hide anything; if Kurt wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here before senior year, he might as well start talking. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Kurt decided to say just a little, as a sort of practice run.

"My Dad took me out of my old High School at the end of sophomore year." He said softly, not wanting anyone else to hear, though they were still on a large table that was, excluding the two of them, completely empty. "I was getting bullied by a couple of kids because I was gay."

Kurt leant back minutely and studied Jeff's reaction to his admission, but Jeff didn't seem too surprised so he continued.

"I used to have all these dreams and talents and I was part of a bunch of clubs in school. The bullying knocked my confidence I suppose, and I started to withdraw a little. My Dad got worried, and sent me here." He smiled resignedly and shrugged a little.

"What clubs were you a part of?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested, and Kurt was glad for him changing the topic voluntarily – Kurt would've thought he was being considerate if Jeff's eyes hadn't begun to shine in a dynamic way that was entirely his own. "There's a bunch of different clubs here that you could join."

"I don't know if I really want to join a club..." Kurt hesitated before continuing. "There were a few clubs, but glee was my favourite."

Jeff looked at him for a minute before breaking out into a grin. "You_ have_ to join the Warblers!" He urged before turning in his seat and craning to see across the, now sparse, hall. He took a few moments, but eventually he saw who he wanted and he raised both of his arms whilst calling out to them.

"Kurt, this is Wes and Thad. They're both heads on the council for the Warblers." Jeff introduced before turning to face the two boys. "Kurt used to be in a glee club, I think you should let him audition for the Warblers."

"Hi, Kurt." Wes extended a hand and shook politely. Thad stayed quiet behind him, but he did smile... slightly, but it seemed more obligatory than genuine.

"Hey." Kurt greeted in return, unsure of what else to say, but feeling slightly more comfortable now that he knew at least two of the boys who Jeff talked about so animatedly.

"Come on, sing a little for us! Please?" Jeff badgered, looking at Kurt with pleading eyes.

"No, I really... I don't want to." He said quietly to Jeff before turning to the other two boys. "Sorry, I just, I don't want to join any clubs right now."

"That's fine, we understand." Wes smiled. There was a slight pause, in which no one was quite sure what to do or say, before Jeff recovered from his apparent disappointment.

"Wes, where's Blaine? I can't wait to tell him about an idea I had for us two to duet... It's not like him to miss breakfast. Oh, wait. He did come back this year, right? He didn't leave? You're still rooming with him, right?" Jeff asked, his voice growing in pitch towards the end.

"Do you really think Blaine would stand a chance of getting out of here before graduation?" Wes asked, in a somewhat jokey manner. "He's still in bed, Jeff –_ Please don't _go and annoy him this early in the morning."

Jeff gasped in mock offense, "Like I would ever annoy anyone!" he giggled as he started walking towards the exit.

"Jeff!" Wes called in warning.

"Oh relax! I'm going to go and wait in the library until the assembly!" Jeff mocked before turning back around and leaving the hall. Kurt, who didn't know what else he could do, hurriedly put his tray away before following the boy out of the hall.

An hour in Jeff's company passed by fast, which was probably just a mirror of the way the boy liked to do everything. In the short time that they were in the library for, Kurt had managed to glean from Jeff's constant conversation that students at Dalton were required to attend at least three therapy sessions a fortnight, two of which would be as a group and one on their own. Kurt wasn't sure which he was more nervous for; both the idea of sharing his worries with a bunch of analytical teenagers and the idea of a professional asking him how everything made him feel seemed equally hellish.

Jeff explained that some kids were scheduled more therapy and self-reflection sessions than others and that the mandatory amount varies from case to case depending on both the nature of the boy's problem, and the boy's willingness to allow himself to be helped. This, along with several other things Jeff had said that morning, was just another point Kurt could add to his growing list of reasons why he should just bite the bullet and talk openly – Kurt wanted to have to have as few therapy sessions as possible.

Soon the two boys found themselves sitting in a grand auditorium that was just another facility that Dalton Academy proudly boasted. In order to keep things from getting too complicated, the boys were instructed to fill the back of the hall first, and not worry about who they were sat by. Though the official reason for this was so that everyone could take their seats as swiftly as possible, and thus allow the introduction to begin, Kurt secretly suspected it to be a method of reducing the amount of talking amongst the students as less would be able to sit in their friendship groups. Kurt was sitting between Jeff and another equally skinny boy and was counting his blessings that it hadn't been someone taller or more muscular – Kurt was still nervous around anyone physically stronger than him.

The introductory speech wasn't quite as long as Kurt had expected it to be, and most of it just seemed to be regurgitated words from the pamphlet he'd already read. Nobody seemed to be paying that much attention to the speaker, even the faculty who were sitting behind him on the stage seemed to all have drifted off; however, not a soul spoke during the talk.

It was all over in a considerably shorter amount of time than Kurt had expected and when the two boys returned to their dorm, they discovered their schedules had been delivered to their respective desks. Kurt picked his up, nervously and looked down at it. He hadn't been allowed to choose his classes here at Dalton, instead he had been put into the ones which he excelled at in McKinley; Kurt was over-the-moon to see that there were a good amount of French classes on his timetable, but he wasn't quite so thrilled with the amount of Science and Math based subjects that he'd have to endure.

"Hey, Kurt, which group did you get put into?" Jeff asked as he inspected his own carefully.

"Uhhmm, It says..." Kurt scanned the paper. "...'Junior Year, Group Eight'...?" Kurt replied questioningly.

"Snap!" Jeff grinned. "Awesome! I wonder who else is in there with us... Looks like we've got the Wednesday slot too, so it'll be our group session tomorrow!"

Kurt found himself suddenly hit by the reality of being at a_ rehabilitation_ school and the fact that he had to go to therapy. He, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, future star of the Broadway and fashion icon had to go to therapy... in a school full of nutters. By association, that made Kurt a nutter himself.

Kurt's head was pounding with defeat and his stomach churned with nerves. He found himself very suddenly worried about whom he'd be with, and whether they would be bigger than him or stronger than him. Would they laugh at him? Would the therapist take one look at him and know that his being there was a complete waste of time? Would they send him back to McKinley, back to the bullies, so soon?

Kurt excused himself from the room, telling Jeff that he had a particularly nasty headache and would just go and get some Paracetamol or Ibuprofen from the school nurse. He'd just needed some space when he'd made the excuse, but now that he was out of the room and on his own, he realised that his headache was indeed pretty bad, and he could really do with some form of painkiller.

Luckily, Kurt remembered from the guided tour of Dalton that Jeff had given him and his Father that each dorm had their own sick bay on the ground floor, along with their own Gym, locker rooms, common room and mini-kitchen but the privilege of being able to use said kitchen went only to students with special dietary needs or students with an eating disorder and scheduled meal times.

The common room was bustling with life when Kurt passes by it, and from the doorway Kurt could make out both of the boys from earlier, Wes and Thad. They were sat in the corner, amongst a small group, and all were crowding some kind of card-game. Some of the other students in the common room had laptops out, or were immersed in books and some were just chatting animatedly with friends. Take away the issues and the therapy and the uniform and the grand decor and Dalton Academy could pass as any normal High School.

Kurt hurried along the hallway towards the sick bay which was on the far side of the building. He felt his pace speed up unconsciously as he passed the Gym, which was packed with some of the bigger, brawnier junior year students. Any one of them looked like they could snap Kurt in two with just a twist of their wrist.

Kurt turned the final corner and stepped through the open door to the sick bay. By this time, as a result of his hurried journey here, his growing anxiety, his hands were shaking.

The nurse looked up from her desk with a surprised expression and muttered something about it all starting up early this year. Kurt realised how he must look to her, out of breath, shaking, eyes wild and nervously standing in the doorway to the sick bay in a crazy school and inwardly cursed himself.

"What can I do for you, Sweetheart?" the nurse asked.

She was obviously middle-aged, but with soft looking skin and a chocolaty brown bob of hair. Her eyes were kind, as was her voice, but both had a hint of authority in them. Kurt warmed instantly to her; she seemed a lot like Carole.

"I've got a bit of a headache right now, I just wanted to ask for some painkillers or something, if that's okay." Kurt answered breathlessly.

Her lips thinned slightly and her eyebrows pinched in the middle as she spun back to face her computer, bringing up some form of search-program.

"What's your name Sweetheart?"

"Kurt Hummel."

Kurt watched as she typed _Hummel, Kurt_ in to the box and waited for it to show her his records. Soon enough a bunch of medical notes appeared, though most of the boxes on his seemed to be empty. She nodded, seeming satisfied with the results and promptly began fishing through her cabinet for some Paracetamol.

"Here you go." She smiled as she handed over two red-and-white capsules. "I just had to check that you were allowed them..." She nodded towards the screen, which was still showing his file, and Kurt immediately knew she was referring, not to any of his possible allergies, but to his history with drugs. At this school, he guessed it must be standard procedure to check up when a student asks for drugs.

"Why don't you have a little lie down in here for a while?" She suggested.

"Uhm, I'm sure I'll be fine..." Kurt babbled.

"You should stay here for a while." She disagreed. "It's a lot quieter in here than it is in any of the dorms right now. I know it can be a bit overwhelming starting out here; it might do you some good to have a little bit of peace and quiet for a few hours."

Her argument was quite persuasive, and Kurt soon found himself curled up on a small cot in one of the corners of the room, shoes on the floor next to the bed and the curtains around it drawn. The clunking and laughter coming from the Gym sounded ominous to him, but at least it was a distant sound. Kurt let himself relax slightly as he watched the streams of sunlight flood through the blinds erratically whenever the clouds cleared enough to let them through. He was soon lulled into a doze, but the sounds of the boys coming from the Gym followed him even into his own slumber.

He'd been so fixated on the sound that the first thing he noticed when he awoke was that it was no longer there. Soon after, as the rest of his senses flooded back to him, he noticed that only the lively sounds from the common room were present. The room was just as bright as when he had drifted off, which had stifled his concern at first, but as he became more aware, he noticed that the light was entirely artificial.

He pulled back the curtain, still slightly dazed and looked questioningly at the nurse.

"Sorry love-" She tilted her head apologetically. "-I was going to wake you, but you were a mess when you got here, so I thought you could use the sleep. It's only nine, so it's not that late."

Kurt mumbled his thanks and allowed her to give him some more Paracetamol, as it had been nearly eight hours since the last two. He swallowed them down gratefully before leaving and heading back to his room. He was so focused on wondering what Jeff would ask him, and how he'd explain his absence to his new friend, that he didn't notice the lone sounds coming from the Gym until he was passing right by the door.

There were no lights on in the Gym and, if it hadn't been for the light seeping in from the hallway and the locker room Kurt wouldn't have been able to make out anything. He was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the alarming sounds of laboured breaths and soft thumps. There was a constant squeaking sound of metal on metal as a punch-bag swung powerlessly under the influence of each strike.

There was only one boy in the Gym and he was in the furthest corner with his back to Kurt, which was probably a good thing because if he'd been able to see Kurt he may have gotten angry at him staring. The boy didn't look very tall and he was quite lithe, but he was equally muscular and looked very well grounded. This, paired with the fact that he was now furiously pummelling the punch-bag had Kurt frozen in trepidation. All of his fears from earlier came rushing back to him and he felt himself struggling to breathe.

His chest seemed to close up completely and it hit him so suddenly that, even though he knew it was mainly psychological, he began to panic. His hand flew up instinctively to his throat and he pressed his thumb into the gap between his two collar bones, trying desperately to loosen his windpipe. His effort had no bearing on his sudden fear and he could feel himself grow more and more frantic each time he tried to choke down some air.

He staggered away from the door and towards the deserted staircase; despite his flustered state of mind he was still aware of the intimidating boy in the Gym and wary of him hearing anything. He tried to gasp in a lungful of air, but each time it felt like it hit a wall somewhere at the back of his throat and bounced straight back out, and he was beginning to get dizzy. By now, tears had sprung up in his eyes and they stung their way down his cheeks as he struggled to tame his emotions. The sounds from the Gym were faded and muffled now, so he tried to ignore them, but each time he grew close to blanking them out he'd be forced to try and cough out another breath and suddenly he'd be able to hear them again – fresh and dominating his thoughts. He could feel his lungs working hollowly in his chest, but somehow none of his breaths made it past his throat.

He found himself focusing on the wall light, the brightness of it burning away his tears and the faint buzzing filling his ears. It helped, it wasn't calming – not in the slightest – but it anchored him down somewhere and gave him something to think about.

Just as suddenly as it had started, he found himself able to breathe again, though now his breaths were wheezy and laboured and each caused him to splutter out a pained cough. He pressed the middle of his back into the handrail of the staircase and leant over it slightly, pushing his shoulder blades together as he tried to make his chest as big as possible. It helped, and slowly the wheezing stopped as his breathing slowed to a normal pace.

Now that his breathing had become less painful he could feel his heart hammering in his chest and was immediately surprised at how his panic over his breathing had made him completely unaware of how hot and fast his chest felt. It felt dangerous and he knew he had to get back to his dorm and calm down – maybe talk to Jeff about something trivial and take his mind off it all.

Jeff, however, was not in the room when Kurt shakily returned, so he crawled into his bed and drew the covers up around him, needing to feel surrounded. His throat felt rough and dry, but he was – for someone who'd just slept for half-a-day – surprisingly exhausted.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_First of all – oh Lordy, chapter one went down much better than I expected it to. Thank you to all of you who put this story on their alerts or who reviewed etc – I barely expected anyone to read it!_

_This chapter felt... weird to write, nearly everything about it was a struggle. I'm not used to writing things with lots of dialogue, and I don't think I'm particularly great at it either...Hopefully the conversation in this chapter doesn't seem too contrived! _

_I didn't notice until I was proof reading this chapter just how many different scenes there were in it..._

_Okay, well thanks again and my exams are over now so I will get to posting more often :)_


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that Kurt spoke to Jeff again. Jeff had left the dorm room early once again that morning and, even though he had said why he was leaving this time, Kurt had barely been conscious and had certainly not yet reached the state where he could comprehend anything. Kurt was not a morning person, and by the time he left for breakfast there was still no sign of Jeff.

It was the end of the school day and he was just returning to his dorm after his last lesson when his roommate came bounding along the hallway behind him.

"Hey, Kurt!" Jeff called out to him energetically.

"Oh, hey Jeff." Kurt replied as he unlocked their door. "Good day?"

"Yup, I had Calculus _and _Physics today. Definitely a good day!"

"Jeff, I know we are in a school full of loonies but you-" Kurt pointed at Jeff's nose "- are absolutely mental. I can't believe my roommate loves Math."

"Yeah, well, I can't believe my roommate sings Disney songs in the shower." Jeff retorted with a smirk before hopping past Kurt into the room. Well, Kurt thought, at least that confirmed that Jeff had indeed returned to the dorm before going to breakfast at some point that morning.

"Oh, ouch." Kurt laughed in response to Jeff's mock as he collapsed onto his bed. It felt nice to be comfortable being his usual jokey self around Jeff. Even though the boy was loud, constantly moving and had the attention span of a gnat, Kurt found that being around Jeff was paradoxically relaxing. Jeff was one of the furthest things from what Kurt would class as a bully as was physically possible, and therefore Kurt felt safe around him.

"Don't get too comfy Kurt!" Jeff laughed as he threw a pillow at him. "We've only got half-an-hour 'till group!"

"Oh, great – I can't wait!" Kurt groaned as he shrugged out of his blazer. "Wait – we don't have to wear our uniform do we?"

"No, no, of course not old chap-" Jeff said in what Kurt guessed to be his British accent, but God only knows why. "- we are permitted to wear whatever we bloody well choose to. I say! What will you be wearing?"

"Hmmm, don't know. I'll look through my wardrobe now." Kurt sighed with relief and resumed removing his uniform. Kurt actually rather liked the uniform, it was well made and stylish, but he needed to feel like himself again; Kurt needed to accessorise.

Kurt settled on wearing his favourite pair of black skinny jeans, a smart white dress top and red tie, a black waistcoat which was faintly pinstriped and his favourite pair of Doctor Marten boots. He'd added a pair of red woollen fingerless gloves at the last minute, because otherwise he looked like a typical waiter – a gorgeously fashionable waiter – but a waiter nonetheless. Jeff, on the other hand, was wearing a hoodie from the Gap and a pair of ratty, worn out jeans.

"So, where to?" Kurt asked as the two boys left the dorm room.

"My schedule says we're in English room 3b." Jeff smiled back at him. "Ohh – and we've got Stephanie!"

"Stephanie?" Kurt questioned.

"Miss Nicholls, she lets us call her Stephanie." Jeff answered before turning into an open classroom.

The room, which was obviously English room 3b, only had about five other pupils in it, but given the fact that there weren't many chairs set out in a circle in the middle of the classroom, Kurt suspected that he and Jeff were nearly last. All of the desks and unwanted chairs in the classroom had been pushed to the sides of the room, allowing for just enough space in the centre to create a circle of chairs. The circle was spacious, but intimately so, which was good because Kurt didn't even feel like talking about his problems, let alone shouting them across the room.

They had just settled into their seats when an attractive woman bustled through the door, juggling a stack of files in one hand, and her handbag in another. Kurt looked up at the woman as she smiled – almost too brightly – around the circle. He had to admit that, for a thirty-something psychiatrist, she had a pretty good sense of style – and if Kurt Hummel approved of your clothes then you must be on top of your game. She was wearing an expensive pair of grey jeans and a simple – yet elegantly designed – pastel yellow camisole top. Both items of clothing were unoffending in colour and fit her tall frame perfectly, as well as emphasising her sleek blonde hair.

"Good afternoon all." The blonde grinned "For those of you who don't already know me, my name is Stephanie Nicholls and I will be your group leader for this year." Her accent was unmistakably British, and suddenly Jeff's exaggerated fake accent from earlier made sense.

"She was my group leader last year, as well as Thad's!" Jeff whispered quickly into Kurt's ear whilst swaying towards him on his seat.

"You have different group leaders in the school?" Kurt queried, because it seemed strange to employ a bunch of different group leaders when each group only had one session a week.

"Yeah, well – there are five-hundred messed up kids here, ain't there? You can't expect one poor bugger to lead all of the groups, think of the headache they'd get!" Jeff giggled, his voice slowly becoming louder and more disruptive. Miss Nicholls looked up from where she had been shifting through everyone's documents – putting faces to names – and interrupted him before he could become any louder.

"Thank you Jeff, for providing us all with your valuable knowledge of the schools system."

Jeff leant back in his chair and stopped swinging long enough to poke his tongue out at her and make a vaguely mocking sound. Kurt's stomach dropped slightly as he waited for Miss Nicholls to reprimand the two of them for talking, Jeff especially – for being rude, and so he was completely taken aback when all she did was mirror Jeff's gesture and make a similar sound. Jeff laughed briefly before allowing Miss Nicholls to continue – it was clear that the two had a friendly relationship.

"Yes, well, whilst tutoring all of you _would _give any 'poor bugger' a raging headache, that's not really the reason that there are twenty-odd group leaders currently employed by the school, each with two groups to lead. Each leader has a two hour session with their groups immediately before dinner on one day each week. There are about ten pupils in each group – we are lucky enough to have the smaller, and more personal, number of eight. "

Kurt looked around briefly, and noticed a few of the other boys doing the same. There were only seven boys there currently, and the empty chair on Kurt's right indicated that Miss Nicholls didn't count herself in that number. Obviously someone was missing.

"There are ten different group sessions run every day, each in their own allocated room somewhere on the campus."

Kurt nodded slowly, and remembered that there had been something in the pamphlet Carole had given him about group leaders being there for anyone in their group at any time of the day or night. It'd been obvious that they boarded at Dalton too, as well as doubling up as teachers or office staff during the day, but Kurt had blatantly underestimated the sheer number of them employed at the school.

"Our group sessions will always be held here," Miss Nicholls continued "in the English room 3b."

Jeff had tuned out half way through her speech, favouring instead blowing on the pages of an open book to make them turn. She soon turned to him and smiled fondly, whilst proposing that he be the first to introduce himself to the group. He snapped the book shut and looked up, startled, before she added:

"Oh, don't worry; we're not going to be talking about anything you don't want to today Jeff. Just a quick introduction, anything about yourself that you want the group to know – as your friends – or anything you feel comfortable sharing."

"Oh, well..." Jeff nodded whilst wringing his hands and standing up so quickly that his chair tipped over behind him. "I'm Jeff Lynch, obviously I'm in junior year like you lot. My Mom asked me if I wanted to come to Dalton, and I agreed. I have ADHD, which I'm sure most of you are already aware of. That's pretty much everything..."

Jeff sat down hastily and resumed rocking on his chair. He looked slightly uncomfortable, but Kurt thought that it was probably more down to being the first one that was called on rather than anything else.

"Thank you Jeff. Right, well, we'll go 'round the circle introducing ourselves, and as Mr. Anderson doesn't appear to be here yet –" She nodded to the empty seat on the other side of Kurt. "- we'll go in the opposite direction and hope that's enough time for him to grace us with his presence."

As she talked, Kurt noticed the boy from yesterday, Wes, shake his head and sigh exasperatedly as he looked at the vacant seat. Whichever boy it was that was missing must be someone Wes knew well, perhaps a roommate or friend?

The next boy to stand up was only a little bit taller than Kurt and had beautiful cherub-like golden curls framing his face.

"Aaron Night." He introduced himself as in hardly a whisper. He looked just about ready to sit back down when Miss Nicholls prompted him slightly with an encouraging smile. "Ah, I... I damaged my vocal chords about a year ago, and this is the loudest I can speak." He gestured to his throat vaguely. "I guess I wasn't confident enough to stay in a normal High School when no one there could hear me."

This time he wasn't stopped before he could sit down, and the next person, who just so happened to be Wes, got up willingly. Wes was the only boy in the room who was still in his uniform and he smiled at everyone before starting to speak.

"Hi everyone, my name's Wesley Leung, but I'd rather you call me Wes. Almost two years ago I was diagnosed with Leukaemia and as a result I pretty much missed the entire of freshman year. My parents wanted to give me the chance of catching up with my studies, so they sent me here a year ago where I studied for both my freshman and sophomore exams and took them both in the same year. Though I'm officially all caught up now, both my parents and I feel it's best for me to stay here, because of the fantastic GPA average and because all of my friends are here. Not to mention, Dalton's timetables are extremely flexible, which helps with all the check-up sessions I have to go to."

Wes smiled at the whole group before resuming his seat. For a while no one moved, and then Wes nudged the boy on his left encouragingly. This boy was dark haired and his eyes seemed to look everywhere except at Miss Nicholls.

"My nnname i... I'm Nnnnick. I wa – My paren..." The boy swallowed. "My Mom and Dad.. m-made me come here becau-cau-sh I have a sh-s-s.. tutter. It can take me a long time to make up a s-s-st-s-s-entence occai-aish..." He swallowed once more, and took a deep breath before trying again. "I-I have to-to think around the... nnnnoises I can't make, a-and try to a-avoid them."

Miss Nicholls looked down at her files and said, before Nick could sit back down:

"It says here you have trouble with Ss and Phh/Ff sounds in particular, correct?" Nick nodded, blushing profusely "Okay, well I think it's best that everyone know that so they can better understand what you're trying to work around in your sentences."

Nick nodded in agreement and sat down hastily. The next boy to stand up was chubbier than the rest of the group, and his round face made him look somewhat childlike – Kurt thought it was slightly endearing.

"M'name's Trent." The boy spoke, and although his timbre was low and smooth he still sounded nervous "I-err, I like music, a lot and err, I'd really rather not say why I'm here, really..." Miss Nicholls nodded to say that it was fine before he continued, somewhat more confidently "I joined this year, so I'm a newbie here. In my old school I was in the orchestra and the glee club..."

"What do you play?" Miss Nicholls prompted.

"Oh, well, I sing – obviously – and I play the Clarinet and the Bassoon. I've been playing the former since I was seven."

"I'm sure you must sound absolutely beautiful."

Trent's eyes flashed with something akin to surprise when she said that, but the emotion was soon replaced with one infinitely more sedate and slightly forlorn. He looked like he was stuck between the decision of continuing with his conversation or running away. He was spared the choice however, by the sounds of someone humming in the hallway outside. Miss Nicholls turned her head to the door, which was ajar, and watched to see who was walking past and Trent used the distraction as an excuse to sit down.

The door was soon pushed open by a short, dark haired boy who was – like Wes – still in his uniform. He was standing quite tall, and a polite smile was plastered on his face. He nodded slightly to the room and took a step forward.

"Ah, hello... Blaine Anderson, I take it?" Miss Nicholls asked, one eyebrow raised.

The boy, Blaine, smiled even wider and strode over towards her.

"Yes, I am" He shook her hand respectfully before adding "I'm very sorry I was late, but I got caught up."

With that, Blaine spun on his heel and made his way towards the only empty chair left in the room, which just so happened to be next to Kurt. Kurt couldn't help noticing, as the boy walked towards him, that he was incredibly handsome – despite his height. He had a strong jaw line, peppered with a thin layer of stubble, and beautiful honey-coloured eyes. It wasn't until Kurt coyly allowed his eyes to travel down that he realised that this boy was the one he had seen in the Gym the previous night. Kurt's breath hitched in his throat and, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, he subtly edged away from the boy that was now sitting next to him. He focused on who was speaking – which was difficult as the room seemed to be getting smaller and the air getting heavier – and tried to listen to what they were saying, willing himself to ignore the boys presence for fear of freaking out again.

"Yes, well, we were just introducing ourselves Blaine – we'll get to you in a minute. For now –" She gestured to the boy who was sitting on the left of Trent "– let's continue."

"I'm David... Mackin, and when I was fourteen my family was involved in a car accident. My twin, Imogen, was killed that night." His voice was quiet, but he didn't falter, he was obviously used to talking about it, but still upset. "My Mother also received serious head injuries and she's been in a coma ever since. Me and my Dad, we coped as best as we could, but a few months after her funeral my Sister started, uh... visiting me."

There was a silence for a few moments, everyone watching David, but he didn't move to sit down.

"I'm not embarrassed about it!" He added. "I'm not, I mean, I get to see my Sister. She comes to see me in dreams, sometimes she joins me for dinner or a chat, but that's not... normal. So my Dad asked me to consider coming here. I agreed because, well, I want to get over this. I don't want to just let her go, though..."

This time he did sit down. His eyes had become slightly shiny, and he looked directly at the light to try and quell his tears.

"Thank you for sharing all of that David. Blaine – it's your turn. Just tell us whatever you're comfortable with. It's the first session, so we're just getting to know each other."

"Okay" Blaine stood up, and once again Kurt found himself admiring the boy's posture, despite the fear that was still growing in his chest. "I'm Blaine."

Blaine's polite smile remained etched into his face as he surveyed everyone in the circle. He appeared to have stopped talking, and Miss Nicholls picked up on this before he sat back down.

"Would you mind telling us why you're here, Blaine?" She looked briefly down at her files, obviously studying his for a moment. As she did, Blaine's polite smile faded, but only slightly.

"I'm here because it's on my timetable, and apparently it's compulsory." He quipped, whilst rolling his eyes.

Miss Nicholls frowned slightly and looked up from the notes.

"Not here specifically, I meant here as in Dalton." She amended.

"Oh, well you should have said." He dead panned and his face remained expressionless as he continued. "My Parents sent me here. They felt it was for the best."

It was obvious that that was all Blaine was prepared to divulge and, personally – if last night was anything to go by – Kurt suspected he had some anger problems so he was glad when Miss Nicholls chose to move on.

As Kurt stood, he felt the familiar tremble of his legs. He used to be great talking to people – especially about himself – but he'd been so used to trying to blend in for the last year that this felt so very alien to him. He was more nervous than he could ever remember being, especially considering the fact that the reason he had had a panic attack last night was sitting just a few feet away, watching him with eyes a dangerously striking shade of amber. He coughed slightly, trying to decide what to say, but instead settled for allowing whatever came out of his mouth to do so.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Kurt Hummel and I transferred here this year because my Dad asked me to. He was worried about me going back to my old school, because of a bullying problem I was involved with. I – umm – I came out as being gay just under a year ago, and for my entire sophomore year a group of Neanderthals decided to make it their mission to torment me. My Dad, and my Step-Mom, were both getting pretty worked up about it, and my Dad's had a lot of heart trouble these past couple of years, so I didn't want him to worry about me too much. I mean, the zero-tolerance policy for bullying also really appealed to me personally, but I'm mainly here for my Dad's sake..."

"It sounds like you and your Father have a truly special bond; I don't hear many teenage boys talking about their Fathers so fondly." Miss Nicholls incited.

"Yes, well. My Dad's always been there for me. It was just me and him until he got remarried last year. We are each other's rocks." Kurt smiled fondly.

"I'm glad you both have someone." Miss Nicholls sighed sincerely.

Kurt smiled back at her and sat down, studying the room for anyone whose behaviour might have changed whilst he introduced himself. Most of the boys around the circle seemed to have remained relatively calm and were either still looking at Kurt or had turned back to Miss Nicholls. Kurt allowed himself to relax slightly as it looked like no one here had taken the fact that he was gay badly. It felt good to know that he was amongst people who didn't care if he liked boys and wouldn't constantly accuse him of wanting them or staring at their ass. The feeling didn't last long, however, as Kurt soon became aware of those unreadable eyes burning into the side of his face.

Kurt didn't turn to look at Blaine. Kurt didn't even acknowledge that he'd noticed Blaine glaring at him; once, a few years ago, maybe he'd have had the guts to turn to him and tell him to mind his own business, but not now. Kurt found himself edging even further away from the other boy, becoming more and more cautious of him.

"Right, well then – it was just a short session tonight. I really just wanted to get to know all of you boys just a little bit better as we're going to be seeing each other a lot during the next year. I won't keep you until dinner tonight, you can go early, but please remember that these sessions are normally two hours long, and-"She looked pointedly at Blaine. "-you are expected to be prompt and turn up on time." She finished talking and began gathering up all of their files into a pile.

Slowly, the boys stood from their chairs and began to help restore the classroom for the next day. Blaine however, did not help. He stood up as soon as Miss Nicholls had dismissed them and hastily exited the room. For someone who was so very well-spoken and polite, it seemed odd that he didn't stick around to help out the group, but Kurt found himself feeling relieved. Especially when he noticed Blaine turn slightly just before the door closed behind him, and give Kurt an inscrutable look.

"Well that's just great." Kurt muttered to himself. Kurt was almost entirely certain that Blaine had a problem with him, and Kurt put all his bets on it being because he was gay. Kurt felt like he should've known that there'd be at least one homophobe at this school, but deep down, even he had to admit that he'd let himself be optimistic and hope that everyone here might be a little bit more mature.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_After writing this chapter, I think I've developed a little soft spot for Nnnnnnnick, although I think it'll prove to be quite a challenge to write his dialogue..._

_I've just realised that it was only just over a month ago that I first saw Glee. Well, I'd seen the first episode before, but if I'm honest, I thought it was awful! Then I heard Blaine and Cooper singing 'Somebody that I used to know' and decided to give it a chance (and then there was the two of them doing Duran Duran and I was sold...) – and now look where I've landed myself: knee-deep in an obsession with Glee, in love with Klaine, waiting impatiently for news on the next season and writing bloody fanfiction. Now I find myself wondering if it truly was a good idea to give Glee a chance...?_

_I also need to apologise for there being a massive gap in my updating; I've just changed laptops and am still in the process of cleaning out my old one. Not to mention, I haven't even installed Pages on my Mac yet, so I have to fire up the old Acer whenever I want to write..._  
_Sorry guys, I'll get my act together soon!_

_Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed/favourited/story alert-ed after the last chapter!_


	4. Chapter 4

On Friday afternoon Kurt and Jeff returned to their dorm to find a large group of junior year students crowded around a piece of paper that had been posted on the bulletin board. The two were unable to get anywhere near enough to read the announcement, but Jeff managed to fish Nick out of the fray who, in his own time, revealed what was going on.

"Oi!" Nick grunted as Jeff dragged him towards them by the collar. "W-what?"

"Tell us what's going on then, will you?" Jeff prompted, his hand flattening the boys collar back down.

"T-there's a-a thing tomorrow. I-in our g-groups." Nick swallowed heavily before continuing. "A t-team work ec-excer-er-ersh-ise. It's a-a tournamennnt, t-t-the win... winning team get a weekend pa-pa-pass-t each to g-go wherever t-they w-w-w-want."

"Awesome!" Jeff exclaimed whilst clapping Nick jovially on the back. "Cheers mate. We did this last year too, right?"

"Sh-sh-st. S-s..." Nick trailed off, eyes blazing in annoyance at his own impairment. "K-k-kind o-o-o—" He broke off again with a sharp yell of irritation and shook his head violently. "Yeah, k-kind of." He finally finished breathlessly.

"Cool, well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow then?" Jeff smiled brightly, his hand lingering on Nick's back for a few moments. The dark haired boy smiled shyly at him before Jeff turned away and Nick lowered his eyes back to the floor – where they seemed to spend most of their time.

"Thanks Nick." Kurt added, still a little confused about what was going on, but wanting to at least be polite.

"N-nnnno problem."

Kurt turned to catch up with Jeff, who was already on the move – as per usual. Jeff was a few metres in front of Kurt as they turned down the hallway towards their dorm room when Kurt heard something. A loud chuckle and a short sentence sounded from one of the rooms on Kurt's right, muffled by the walls, before a door just in front of Jeff opened.

Kurt froze as Blaine stepped out from his room, still in his uniform, and shouted a brief farewell to his roommate. Kurt recognised Wes' voice return the farewell before Blaine closed the door and suddenly the other boys concern on Wednesday when Blaine was late for group made sense.

As Blaine turned down the hallway he greeted Jeff, and Kurt, with his usual polite smile and a friendly wave. Jeff returned the gesture, but Kurt was still frozen in place. He internally urged himself to move, but he couldn't bring himself to put one foot in front of the other – it was almost as if he were afraid that any action on his part would draw Blaine's attention. It wasn't until Blaine had turned the corner that Kurt was able to move again; he would've felt more relieved at the shorter boy's departure, had he not given Kurt another of his enigmatic looks as he passed by. Kurt felt his head spin as fear rose up, unbidden, and he found himself scrambling to catch up with Jeff.

The rest of the night passed without incident – save for Kurt nearly having a panic attack in the bathroom – and Kurt didn't see Blaine again, not even at dinner when nearly the entire of group eight, along with Thad and a few other boys Kurt assumed to be in the Warblers, sat at the same table. Blaine's absence left him feeling nervous for the next day, when he'd have to spend hours completing all manner of group-orientated activities in close proximity with the boy whom he had allowed to embody all of his fears. All Kurt could think about as he lay in his bed that night was Blaine, skipping dinner in favour of beating up a punch bag that he was imagining to be Kurt.

The next day dawned to be clear, but crisp and cold and Kurt struggled to piece together a practical outfit for the day that was equally warm and stylish. In the end he went with his expensive new black trainers, black leggings for warmth, under a pair black shorts with an Abercrombie hoodie and hoped to God that the latter wouldn't get dirty at all today.

Breakfast was a fairly hurried affair for the two boys as Jeff had overslept and convinced Kurt to wait for him. By the time they made it down to the dining hall most of their friends were nearly finished with their food and were instead chatting animatedly about the upcoming activities for the day.

The entire of junior year had been instructed to convene on the main sports pitch at the back of the grounds and, as Jeff and Kurt hurried to join the rest of group eight, Mr Landan – who was group one's leader and head of junior year – was already introducing the first activity.

"There will be four rounds, and half of the teams will be eliminated at each round – that means only six will advance from this first activity. Remember boys, though this is a competition, there are plenty of other ways that you can earn yourselves a weekend pass – I want everyone to remember that and not to get too upset if you're eliminated."

Mr Landan was a tall man in his early forties who had short salt-and-pepper hair, a lot of stubble and brilliantly blue eyes and he was dressed smartly, despite the nature of the day's activities. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked out at the assembled year groups.

"The first round shall be a ten minute game of soccer, where the team with the highest score will go through. As with all of today's activities, every member of each group must play – the only exceptions being those who are physically unable to take part. The first game today is between groups one and two. Would everyone else please sit at the edge of the pitch and wait patiently for their turn."

Kurt groaned as he followed his team to sit with them at the edge of the pitch – if the day turned out to be comprised of activities as physical as this then Kurt might as well go straight to hell, because he'd probably enjoy it there more. Unsurprisingly, Jeff's eyes had lit up enthusiastically as soon as the word 'soccer' had been announced and he was now bouncing around the group, attempting to raise morale in his own way.

"Wes! We're the fourth game, right? I can't wait; we're going to kick ass!" Jeff giggled as he sidled up to the other boy.

"Yes, but that means you're going to have to sit still and wait for half an hour first though, Jeff." Was Wes' response, accompanied with only a slight smirk.

"Awh, what a buzz-killer dude! You're no fun."

"Guilty as charged." Wes replied as a whistle sounded and the first game begun.

"Hmmmm..." Jeff crossed his arms before turning to the boy on his right. "What about you Aaron, you play soccer?"

"Not much of a sporty person, I'm afraid." The boy croaked quietly.

"Oh well." Jeff turned and caught Kurt's eye. "I suppose I don't even have to ask you, you've been grumbling about having to do any sort of physical activity all morning now." Jeff poked his tongue out at him, which took the sting out of his words.

Kurt smiled absently as he watched the game currently playing out, surprised at how engrossed in it he managed to get. He ignored the fact that it was a bunch of shouting teenagers romping across a field pointlessly after a ball and started to watch what they were doing in particular. There wasn't a soccer club at Dalton, so none of the boys had any fantastic talent but Kurt noticed the use of a few basic feints that he himself might even be able to pull off and committed them to memory. It was halfway through the third game when Kurt noticed a pattern in the losing teams.

He stood up and took a good look at his own group; all of them were wearing hooded jumpers or coats.

"Put your hoods up, everyone." He instructed, surprised at his own confidence, and slightly pleased at the return of his usual bossy tone.

"Sorry?" Trent hesitated confusedly.

"Put your hoods up!" He sighed, because now that he had noticed what was so obvious, he wondered how anyone could miss it. "If we all put our hoods up, we'll be able to recognise each other quickly. If we can't see who's on our team then we won't know who to pass to - we could even pass to the wrong person." He reasoned. Kurt may not have very much athletic ability, but he had more than enough logic to make up for it.

"But with our hoods up, won't our vision be limited?" David volleyed and Kurt snapped his mouth shut, thinking.

"Not enough to make a difference." Blaine backed Kurt up and came to stand next to him; Kurt shifted away as much as he could without anyone noticing. "I agree with Kurt, we need to able to recognise each other – not all of us know each other well enough to work on it by faces."

The team seemed to consider this for a few moments, but before anyone else could agree or disagree the whistle sounded and the third game ended, with group five victorious. Mr. Landan's voice sounded again, calling groups seven and eight to the field. This spurred the boys into action and they all looked to Blaine and nodded in agreement, much to Kurt's chagrin as it had been his idea.

As the boys made their way onto the pitch, all eight of them silently slipped their hoods up over their heads and smiled awkwardly at either Kurt or Blaine.

The first seven minutes seemed to pass almost instantly and neither team had come anywhere near the other's goal. The game so far had consisted of a tedious amount of passing midfield with neither team really making any progress. The boys in Kurt's group were starting to look a little peeved – especially Jeff, who appeared to have given up altogether in favour of talking to Nick, who was in their goal. Even the rest of their year group on the sides of the pitch had stopped paying any attention to the match, despite the fervent interest everyone had shown in the opening minutes of the game.

Kurt knew he had a strong kick and good aim – something that had been proved to him during the atrocity that was his brief football career – and if he could just get a clear shot at the goal, then he was fairly sure he could get the ball in the net. The only problem was getting there; Kurt wasn't exactly fast or athletic and he was almost certain that any one of the opposing team could outrun him, even the slightly overweight boy who was wearing a tragic excuse for sports-wear.

Kurt glanced over at his teammates, most of which were chasing the ball with much less fervour then when the game began. It was only Blaine who was still playing with equal amounts of intensity and determination. Kurt was surprised at how focused Blaine was, but he supposed the possibility of winning a weekend pass must be a pretty welcome one to any of the boys.

The game however, despite Blaine's efforts, continued to drag on and it was only in the last few seconds of it that Blaine finally managed to intercept the ball and sprint with it towards the goal. He was nearly close enough to the other goal when the whistle sounded, signalling that time was up.

It went straight to penalties, and as group eight were in possession at the end of the game, they got to kick first. Kurt took the opportunity and sent the ball flying into the net. Jeff jumped on Kurt's back, shouting in celebration until Wes told him that the other team had to try first.

Nick, however, was a very good goalie, and caught their attempt at a goal. Group eight were through to the next round. All of the boys grinned and slapped each other on the back in excitement except Kurt, who avoided any and all unnecessary and painful back-slapping, and Blaine who stood off to the side with focused, hungry eyes. The game hadn't been particularly exciting, but they's won it at least.

Twenty minutes later and six groups had made it through to the next round, and Mr Landan was back to announce the second game.

"This time the game will be more about trusting your team members and learning to relinquish some control. Each group must choose one person to carry the remaining members across the width of the pitch, the group that finishes in the fastest time wins. Any groups with less members will have a slightly later start time and all members of each group must participate."

They had a few minutes before the game started to choose who would be carrying everyone across the pitch, and the boys soon dissolved into disagreement.

"I think I should do it - I'm the fastest runner." Aaron piped up truthfully.

"Yeah, no offence mate, but you're lilliput compared to me." Jeff added.

"Well I'm the heaviest." Trent supplied quietly. "I wouldn't want any of you to have to carry me."

"I'm pretty sure I could do it." David chimed in.

The squabbling continued, where nearly every member of the group reasoned that they'd be the best for the job, and both Kurt and Wes - who'd been quiet the whole time - became conscious of the lack of time they had left.

"Well, I'm _not_ doing it." Kurt put in to shut them all up. "I'm probably the weakest here, and I'm definitely the slowest."

"Me neither." Wes winked at Kurt gratefully. "I vote Blaine does it - he's the strongest of us all by far, and he's also the most focused."

Kurt's chest suddenly constricted, not liking where the decisions were going; he did not think he could survive being held that close to Blaine. His heart sped up and he tried to look for a way to get out of it, but by now everyone had resigned themselves and agreed that Blaine was the best man for the job.

Kurt tried to stop the tears springing to his eyes as the whistle sounded and, after a fifteen second handicap, Blaine lifted Wes and sprinted across the pitch with him on his back.

With each member of the team that Blaine successfully carried over the pitch, Kurt's fear rose, and by the time it was just himself and Jeff left he was in very real danger of having another panic attack. He could feel his palms sweating and the familiar tension in his chest that heralded the peak of his fear and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore them, before he embarrassed himself in front of the whole year.

"Kurt, dude, chill." Jeff nudged him as Blaine dropped Trent off and turned back towards them. "Blaine isn't going to drop you, just trust him."

"Famous last words." Kurt replied sullenly, his eyes still shut. He pointedly ignored Blaine when he returned, allowing him to take Jeff first.

Jeff, at the best of times, fidgeted, which is why Kurt wasn't surprised to see Blaine struggling to keep his balance. Jeff looked like he was leaning too far back, and the neck of Blaine's jumper had risen up to his chin under the weight of Jeff pulling on it.

When they were halfway across the pitch Blaine stumbled, and stopped to hitch Jeff up higher on his back before continuing. Jeff, who had been momentarily stunned by nearly falling, leant in closer to Blaine's back as the boy continued. Kurt could see Jeff's arms had tightened around Blaine's shoulders and the force of the blonde boy's grip looked like it was verging on painful.

Jeff, who'd been previously leaning too far back, was now leaning forward, but he hadn't stopped fidgeting - the next time Blaine stumbled to accommodate for Jeff's wriggling the two fell straight forwards.

Blaine, who's hands were currently holding Jeff up behind him, couldn't catch himself in time and instead slammed down on his shoulder. Jeff threw his hands out to stop him crashing down on top of Blaine, but he still landed heavily on the boys back.

The two groaned in pain and rolled away from each other as Mr. Landan's voice sounded over the field.

"Team eight is disqualified."

At the sound of that announcement, many of the other teams who had been struggling sped up substantially as with the leading team disqualified, they all stood a greater chance.

Kurt found himself running onto the pitch and kneeling beside Jeff, who was sitting up cradling his left hand. All Kurt could selfishly think about was how he knew Blaine would do something wrong and that it could've been him that fell.

The rest of his team had run in from the opposite side of the pitch and they immediately circled the boys.

"Owww, ow..." Jeff moaned as he tried to flex his fingers - several of which were pointing in opposite directions, looking decidedly broken.

"A-are y-y-you o-okay?" Nick stammered as he leant towards Jeff, supporting his back with his hand.

"Ow!" Jeff complained.

"I'll go get Miss Nicholls." Aaron offered hoarsely as he sped off.

Kurt looked at his roommate worriedly. Jeff looked a little shaken, but it didn't look like he was in too much pain - just complaining about it in a way which was expected of him.

Nick continued fussing over Jeff, stopping him from moving his hand too much, as the two boys got to their feet. It wasn't until after Nick began to walk Jeff towards the teachers that Kurt even remembered about Blaine. He turned, to find the boy still lying on the floor, surrounded by the rest of the group.

"Blaine, you should stop moving around. You landed pretty hard just now." Wes was reasoning to the boy who was trying to sit up. Blaine just ignored his roommate and got shakily to his feet, scrunching his face up with pain.

Wes stood with Blaine, his hands extended nervously, as if he expected Blaine to pitch over at any minute - which wouldn't be that surprising considering how pale Blaine looked. He was holding onto his shoulder and grimacing every time it was jostled slightly.

Blaine's eyes were smouldering with anger and were fixed firmly on the ground by Wes' feet as he ran a hand through his hair - freeing some curls from the hold of the gel. His jaw was clenched so hard that Kurt was sure his teeth had to be aching. Kurt was frozen in fear from just the sight of Blaine's form - shaking with anger. The panic he'd felt rising up earlier seemed to be making a comeback, and though he rationally knew Blaine wasn't angry at Kurt personally, Kurt was irrationally convinced that Blaine would hit him if he moved.

Kurt wasn't sure what he expected Blaine to do - maybe shout at someone or blame Jeff - but instead, the shorter boy spun on his heel and stormed off towards the dorms without another word. He raised his hand in objection when Wes made to follow him and continued alone, leaving Wes standing awkwardly behind.

Kurt took a deep breath, stuffing his sweaty, trembling hands into his pocket as the rest of the group made their way off the pitch towards Nick and Jeff. Kurt stayed behind, not trusting his legs to keep him upright considering how weak his knees had turned when he'd seen that Blaine was angry. He did, however, surprise himself by speaking to Wes.

"He's angry at Jeff, isn't he?"

"Huh? Who, Blaine?"

Kurt nodded meekly, still trying to hide his fear.

"No, he isn't mad at any of us - that's the problem." Wes replied, grimacing in empathy at the sight of Jeff on the edge of the pitch, flexing his fingers experimentally.

"But... I thought... Didn't he really want that weekend pass or something? He's been so focused on winning all day."

"Blaine wasn't trying to win just to get himself a weekend pass - he's the top student in our year, he get's a weekend pass _every_ weekend. He was trying to win it so that we'd _all_ have weekend passes."

"W-what? But... why?"

"All sorts of reasons... We're always asking him to burrow his, for one. He said he wanted me to spend some time with my Sister before she goes back to college next week, that he wanted David and you to have some time with your Fathers - he wanted-"

"-What?"

"Sorry?"

"What did Blaine say about me?"

"Oh, just that it must be tough on you - what with it being your first week here - and that because you and your Dad have such a great relationship you should get to see him. All he'd talk about last night was why he wanted everyone to have a weekend pass."

"Hmmmm..." Kurt thought. He could still feel a dull fear crawling through his skin, but he managed to repress it. Knowing Blaine wasn't angry at him, and was no longer near him was calming. "... Then, why did he look so... livid?"

Wes' eyes softened sadly as he spoke.

"Blaine get's angry at himself. Right now, I've no doubt he's blaming himself for ruining everyone's weekend - he probably thinks we're all blaming him too."

Kurt frowned slightly and felt a little bit guilty about his most recent rush of fear. The last thing anyone needed was Kurt making this about himself and getting irrationally afraid.

It seemed strange to think of Blaine as anything but popular, confident and blameless, but obviously that was not how he thought of himself. Kurt allowed himself to wonder briefly, as his heart beat slowed back down, how Blaine saw himself on a daily basis.

He didn't linger long in that little reverie of thought, because he soon found himself rushing to the Nurse's office to find out if Jeff was okay.

Jeff was sat on the edge of one of the beds in the room, facing away from the door and leaning on Nick as the nurse examined his hand carefully. She looked up as Kurt entered the room and smiled at him.

"Hello love, are you alright today?" She asked sweetly.

"Uhm. Yes, I'm fine." Kurt replied as Jeff turned to face him, his hand twisting slightly in the Nurse's grip and causing him to flinch. "Just came to find out how my clumsy roommate was doing."

"Ugh - shut up Kurt, it's not like this was my fault." Jeff moaned. "Ow!" He added as the Nurse took his hand back.

"Hmmm... yeah, of course - because you weren't wriggling around on Blaine's back so much that he stumbled. No, you are blameless, Jeff." Kurt laughed sarcastically.

"Oh go away and annoy Wes or someone!" Jeff groaned, leaning back on Nick's shoulder.

"I can stay here with you, 'till you're done here." Kurt offered.

"No, Kurt - I'm fine... Shouldn't be here too long anyway, and Nick'll take care of me." Jeff replied, his voice rising slightly when the nurse pressed tentatively at his index finger.

"I-I-I... I w-will s-s-sh-tay with him." Nick smiled.

"Well... if you're sure?" Kurt asked. He felt like he should stay with his roommate whilst he was here, but despite the fact that Kurt thought of Jeff as his best friend at Dalton, Jeff and Nick were obviously closer. Kurt thought that it was a bit depressing that Jeff didn't feel as close to Kurt and Kurt felt to him, but Kurt didn't press Jeff to let him stay.

As he slipped out of the nurse's office Kurt nearly collided with someone and had to stagger to keep his balance. The someone hissed and dodged Kurt quickly, doubling over to protect some part of his injured frame. Kurt looked up to see Blaine standing three feet from him, still clutching his shoulder, his face having grown even paler than before.

Kurt tilted his head to catch Blaine's eyes, and was surprised to find them glassy and pained. Kurt had, obviously incorrectly, assumed from Blaine's blasé, confident personality and his general strength that Blaine was... untouchable. Hunched over and looking so vulnerable and pale was the last way Kurt had ever expected he'd see him.

Kurt would later use that as the reason for why he acted as he did next, and as the reason that he didn't feel afraid of Blaine at that point in time.

Kurt reached out and held Blaine's good arm, bringing the shorter boys eyes up to his so that he could inspect him worriedly.

"I'm fine, Kurt. Sorry for nearly making you fall over as well." Blaine assured him, with none of his usual ardor and just a hint of bitterness.

"Blaine, you _are not_ okay. Please tell me you're here because you're actually going to see the Nurse." Kurt argued.

"Yes... and apologise to Jeff."

"You have nothing to apologise for Blaine so stop being such an idiot." Kurt retorted.

"I'm sorry to you too, Kurt. You must've really wanted to see your Father this weekend. If I hadn't dropped Jeff then-"

"Shut up Blaine." Kurt snapped, surprised at how in-control and... well, normal, he sounded considering Blaine was standing so close to him. "It's not your fault - It's nobody's fault and nobody except you is taking it so bad."

"I know." Blaine sighed. "I just... It would've been nice for you all, wouldn't it?"

"Well, I can't deny that." Kurt _nearly_ laughed. "Hey, if you feel so bad about it, why don't you just lay off the studying this week and let someone else get top-of-the-class? With you around none of us have a chance at getting a free weekend pass."

Blaine smiled a little, but it was the first genuine smile Kurt had seen on the boy's face. Blaine's face fell slightly, and he looked at Kurt once more with that enigmatic look of his, and closer up, Kurt thought it looked a lot more like longing than hatred.

"Thanks... Kurt" He whispered before he turned to slip though the door to the nurse's office.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_God I hate football - or should I say 'soccer'. I don't know a thing about it - but it got stuck in my head for this chapter because of the stupid Euro's that have been on, which my parents insist on watching. That's why it was pretty vague._

_Once again, I want to thank everyone for the reviews and favourites and story-alerts! You're all great and I appreciate everything._

_:)_


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out that Jeff had broken his index and middle fingers on his left hand. His being right handed meant that this barely had any impact on his day to day life, but he still managed to convince Nick to carry his tray for him in the dining hall, and to help cut up his food... and carry his bag, and hand in his homework. In fact, for the next week, Jeff managed to get other people - mainly Kurt and Nick - to do just about everything for him, up-to-and-including walking him to his next class, even at the expense of the other person being late for theirs.

Kurt would've objected to all this pandering, had he not needed something to occupy his mind - other than the sight of one fear-inducing-but-undoubtedly-hot Blaine Anderson wandering around in a tight fitting shirt and no blazer. Kurt had hoped, after his last interaction with Blaine that he'd be less scared of him, but when he saw him the next day, sitting outside the Gym in a wife-beater and covered in sweat, he'd had a panic attack that was even worse than the last one.

Kurt couldn't help but wonder, selfishly, why Blaine couldn't just remain the unsure, quiet boy like he was yesterday, at least that way, Kurt wouldn't have to put up with the inner conflict he was suffering at the moment.

Despite Blaine staying quiet at the time it turned out that he had also injured himself quite badly, ending up with a dislocated shoulder and sprained wrist. The support Blaine had to wear for the next few weeks fit neither under nor over his blazer, and so he had opted to forgo it completely. That wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't wearing a very tight fitting shirt and didn't have a very good body - but he was, and he did, and so Kurt had been stuck in an equilibrium of fear and lust all week.

All too soon it was Wednesday afternoon again, and he and Jeff were in their dorm room getting ready for group. Kurt had known which outfit he'd wear all week, but he'd decided to take his own sweet time getting changed just so that he could spend as little time in that room as possible - only seeing Blaine at lunch times was upsetting his composure enough, he didn't want to have to spend more than the compulsory next two hours in the same room as him, getting flustered.

"Kuuuuurt..?" Jeff whined from his side of the room, where he was lying on the bed, half dressed.

"Jeeeeffff?" Kurt replied as he slowly clipped a broach onto his lapel.

"Can you do up my buttons for meee?"

"I'm sure you can manage them without two of your fingers, Jeff."

"Kuuuuurt..?"

"Oh, fine." Kurt sighed as he made his way over to Jeff, who was now sat up. "You really have to stop using everyone like this - poor Nick got detention for being late to Spanish twice."

Jeff pouted comically whilst Kurt did up his shirt, and swatted his hand away when he made to do up the top button.

The two boys made their way down to English room 3b slowly - after, of course, Jeff had made Kurt tie his shoelaces for him and itch his elbow.

Miss Nicholls was already in the room, along with Aaron, Trent and Nick, the latter of which was still in his uniform after only just getting out of detention. Jeff made a beeline for Nick and, as out of character as it was, apologized to him sincerely.

After a few minutes, David entered the room and sat down on the empty chair next to Nick, meaning that Kurt had a fifty-fifty chance of ending up sitting next to Blaine. He tried to ignore the trembling in his fingers that started at that thought.

"Wes and Blaine are on their way, Miss - they just got caught up talking to Mr Landan." David called out to Miss Nicholls who's face - Kurt noticed - coloured slightly at the mention of the other teacher.

"Okay, thank you for telling me." She recovered. "And please, everyone - you can call me Stephanie. These sessions are completely informal."

It wasn't long before Wes and Blaine did indeed turn up and this time Wes wasn't in his uniform. Blaine, however, had only taken off his tie and undone a few of his buttons because it was still too awkward with his shoulder to be getting changed often.

Kurt tried not to sigh in relief when Blaine sat down next to David and not him, but he did relax a little in his chair. Blaine was sat just at the edge of his vision, so he could easily ignore him. He _could_ ignore Blaine, if only the stupid boy would stop tensing his bloody jaw - it made him look a disconcerting mixture of angry and very, very handsome. Kurt was getting fed up of not knowing where he stood with Blaine. Was he scared, or was he attracted?

"Right, well then - it's nice to have _everyone_ here today." Stephanie began. "Today we're going to play a few little ice-breaker games, and yes, _I know_ that's _soooo_ middle-school, but we're going to play them anyway, okay?"

"Okay." Wes was the one that answered for them all. "Which one's will we play?"

"First off -" She handed out a piece of paper and a pencil to everyone. "Write two truths about yourself, and one lie down then fold it in half and give it to me. We'll take it in turns to guess firstly who wrote them, and secondly which one is the lie."

Kurt took the paper and pencil and frowned at them both - what was he supposed to write about himself? That he was gay? They all knew. That he was bullied? They all knew. For some reason these were the only things about him that sprung to mind. Surely a simple game like this shouldn't be so difficult.

Looking around, Kurt saw that most of the other boys had at least started writing, so he thought desperately and wrote down the first three things that came to mind - they would just have to do.

"Right then..." Stephanie shuffled through the papers she'd collected and drew one out. "Here's the first three: When I was a baby, my Mom entered me in a pageant and I won... I have three older Sisters and I'm already an Uncle to two... I was officially, on record, the slowest runner in my last school, out of all of the year groups... Who do you think this one is?"

"Well, it's not Wes, Blaine, Trent, Jeff or Nick." David reasoned. "I know about their families from last year so it isn't true for any of them, and they wouldn't attempt it as a lie... that leaves Kurt and Aaron."

"It's Aaron then." Jeff added whilst winking at Kurt. "I've already heard all about Kurt's family, and he doesn't have any Sisters, and he knows I know so he wouldn't lie."

"Yeah, it's mine..." Aaron whispered.

"Right then, well done boys. Which do you think is the lie?" Stephanie prompted.

"I don't think he's _that_ slow of a runner, I mean, look how lithe he is..." Kurt piped up.

"I don't know man, he was pretty slow out on the pitch on Saturday." Jeff volleyed.

"I-I-I think i-it's the f-f-beginning one." Nick added without hesitation.

"It's the first one." Aaron confirmed with a slight wink. "Although..." He added whilst resting his chin prettily on the back of his hand. "... don't you think I'd win anyway?"

"So you have a big family then Aaron?" Stephanie interrupted, deciding to diplomatically ignore his being a very slow runner.

"Yup, three older Sisters, one younger Brother, two Nephews aged four and one and ten Cousins... I think that's a pretty big family."

"Do many of them live at home with you?"

"My Parents, my Brother and one of my Sisters and her kid."

"Is it loud at home?"

Aaron looked down and nodded.

"I... I don't get heard all the time... because I'm a lot quieter than the rest of them."

Stephanie smiled and quickly jotted something down in Aaron's file before she picked up another piece of paper.

"Okay, moving on." Her expression was guarded as she read each of the points out. "I always, compulsively, wear odd socks... I am technically not actually in junior year... I don't like Oreos."

"It's Blaine." Wes stated simply.

"Bingo." Blaine replied with a polite smile.

"The lie is the odd socks." Wes continued. "He's too fashion conscious to ever be caught wearing odd socks."

Was Blaine really fashion conscious? Kurt had only seen him out of the Dalton uniform when he's wearing clothes to exercise in, so it's a bit hard to imagine.

"What... Dude, you don't like Oreos?" Jeff exclaimed, sounding almost offended.

"Nope - they get all stuck in your teeth and make you look silly, like you haven't brushed your teeth in decades..." Blaine reasoned.

"But... Dude... Oreos are awesome."

Blaine made a face, wrinkling his nose up slightly and running his tongue over his teeth, and looked like he was about to counter Jeff's eloquently put argument, but Stephanie cut in quickly.

"You're not in junior year then, Blaine?"

"You knew that, it's in the file." He frowned back. "I am, for all intents and purposes such as group and dorm rooms and most of my classes, but I'm more of a part-time sophomore-junior."

"Can you explain that a little bit more please, Blaine?"

"Well... I missed half of my freshman year, so when I came here last year I obviously had to catch up on that. I did some of my sophomore year last year, and if I'd worked as hard as Wes last year then I'd probably be a full time junior year student, but I didn't so I'm not. I have extra classes to finish sophomore year."

"Why did you miss freshman year, Blaine?"

"I only missed a bit of it." He defended himself. "I... There was a bit of an incident and I left my old school. My... I was home-schooled for a bit, but that didn't really work out..."

"Why didn't it work out?"

"It just didn't, okay?"

"Okay." Stephanie retreated.

Despite this intriguing piece of information, Kurt, for some reason, was still stuck on the mental image of Blaine in the latest Marc Jacobs collection, wearing a perfectly balanced outfit that was snug in all the right places.

He found himself staring absentmindedly at Blaine, and didn't notice where he was looking until his eyes locked with the other boy's. Blaine was looking a little disturbed by Kurt's gaze, and was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Kurt smiled apologetically at him, not missing the guarded look in Blaine's eyes, before he turned his attention back to Stephanie.

He learnt that Wes' older sister was majoring in fashion design in college and made a mental note to ask Wes to introduce him to her. David, apparently, owned a 1962 Morris Minor which was, as he put it, his 'baby'. Trent had met a whole host of actors, because a friend of his family's worked in production. Nick loved singing, despite it being hard for him, and was currently enrolled in speech therapy just so that he could realise his dream of being able to sing. Jeff, apparently, had a British mother.

In turn, the rest of the group discovered that Kurt's Mother was dead, and that he was, briefly, on the football team. Unsurprisingly, most of the group decided not to comment on his dead Mother, instead choosing to wonder at the fact that he had actually played football.

"Woah now. Kurt, really? You?" Jeff asked in astonishment.

"Yes, me. Really."

"But you're..."

"I'm..?"

"Not a football guy."

"No, I'm not. It's a pointless exercise and the clothes look ridiculous."

"Then why did you play?" Stephanie prompted.

"Well... It was a silly reason really, I just... I wanted to have something more in common with my Dad. I wanted him to be proud of me and feel like I was actually his Son. Being pretty much a stereotypical gay and into musicals and fashion and decorating and... Me and my Dad could never really talk about any of those things."

"I'm sure your Father is proud of you for all of those things Kurt."

"No, I know he is. He's wonderful, and it was just a silly moment of insecurity on my part."

Stephanie paused for a moment to shuffle through her files again, before announcing the next game.

"Well, that actually leads us quite nicely onto the next topic - family. I want you all to choose one member of your family and tell me the thing you like most about them, and the thing you like least. We'll start with you, Kurt, as you were last, and work in reverse order from last time."

Kurt paused for a moment; he didn't want to talk about his Father again, as that was all he'd talked about in these sessions. Instead he chose to talk about Finn.

"My stepbrother, Finn, he is in the same year as me. He used to look out for me in school, back when I was in McKinley, and even though he doesn't always shout it from the rooftops, he backs me up most of the time. That... well, considering that before my Dad and Carole got married we didn't particularly get along, that he does that is nice."

"And what don't you like about him? If there is anything, that is."

"Oh, I don't like that he doesn't appreciate the importance of a nice-fitting peacoat." Kurt said simply, eliciting a slight giggle from Stephanie.

"Not the stylish sort?"

"_He doesn't have a clue._"

"Alright, next. Jeff."

"My Nan, she makes _the best_ lemon cakes."

"It's always about food with you, Jeff." Aaron laughed croakily.

"Hey, don't knock it! Anyway - the thing I don't like is that she absolutely _loves_ watching reruns of crappy soap operas. All the time, like, twenty-four seven."

"Go on then Nick, what about you?" Stephanie asked.

"M-m-my M-Mum. A-always knows w-what I-I-I a-am t-t-t-t-trying t-t-to s-s-sh... t-tell her."

"Ooohhh, a Mummy's boy, eh?" Jeff jibed.

"S-s-s-s-sh-don't!" Nick warned.

"And?" Stephanie prompted. Nick swallowed heavily twice before replying.

"H-her... T-t-too m-much per-perfume." Nick coughed slightly with his tongue out, to further illustrate his point.

"My turn, I suppose." Trent piped up. "My younger sister plays flute wonderfully, and when we play together, I really like her. I don't like her the rest of the time though, because she's loud and bossy and a little bit vain."

"I'm sure that's just sibling rivalry."

"Maybe so, but she's an absolute nightmare."

Stephanie laughed again at that, but it was only a short, single sound.

"My Uncle is a marine." David started. "I don't like that I never get to see him, but I do like his awesome sense of humour."

"My Sister is the person I'm closest to." Wes offered. "She's wonderful, we've never really had a falling out unlike most siblings. I like that she does so much for me, and other people, but at the same time I hate it. She needs to think about herself more often; when I was ill, she'd Skype me every day, despite the fact that she had to stay up until the early morning to do it because of the time-difference."

Stephanie smiled at that, before turning to look at Blaine expectantly.

"Oh, right... well." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he hadn't decided who he was going to speak about yet. "Well..."

"Have you not chosen what to say, Blaine?" Stephanie asked, and though the question was casual enough, Kurt could tell she was fishing for something, and from the tone of Blaine's response, apparently he could tell too.

"No, I was just... trying to think of something I didn't like about my... Mother."

Stephanie narrowed her eyes slightly and picked up her pen and Blaine's file, before nodding for him to continue.

"My Mom... used to sing for me, when I was younger, to help me sleep. She had a beautiful voice."

"How old were you when she used to sing to you."

"Three, maybe four." Blaine smiled politely at Stephanie, a guarded expression in his eyes making it obvious that he didn't plan to give away very much.

"And what don't you like about her?"

"Nothing... Well, perhaps, I don't like that she left."

"Left?"

"Yeah, up and left when I was seven; haven't spoken to her since. It's not really that big of a deal, it's just that's the only fault I can find in her."

"That's a pretty big fault, if you don't mind me saying."

"Not really. People leave all the time."

"Yes, they do... but your Mother... well, it's one thing for an acquaintance or a distant family member to leave, but for someone who's known you all your life, your parent-"

Blaine stood up form his chair, a flash of something not entirely angry in his eyes as he cut her off. Obviously, Stephanie, being a professional, knew all the right ways to try and get an answer out of someone; apparently it took putting Blaine into a defensive mood to get him to really open up.

"It's not her fault! Children are obligated to... They are _supposed_ to have parents, supposed to love their parents; adults aren't always supposed to have children - for them it's a choice. She didn't _have_ to stay if she didn't want to, it was her choice!"

"Is that how you feel, Blaine? Obligated?"

Blaine made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper before he turned his back on the group and stormed out the door, letting it swing into the wall behind him. His shoulders were tense, and Kurt knew, somehow, that he was going to the gym. Strangely enough, this didn't scare Kurt this time, probably because he was sure that Blaine wasn't going because he was angry at him.

"Maybe we should leave it at that." Wes suggested.

"Okay, time was nearly up anyway." Stephanie sighed. "Wes, when you see him tonight, tell him I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it to sound so-"

"He knows that, I'm sure." Wes smiled politely at her. "I'll tell him anyway, though."

"Thank you."

As the group ambled slowly to the canteen, Kurt couldn't help but wonder if Blaine was okay. He had a strange feeling in his stomach that he knew wasn't fear; in fact, Kurt would probably go so far as to say it was concern. The concern he felt was heavy and unsettled in his stomach, and suddenly he didn't need any food. He just needed to see Blaine.

The group were so immersed in their animated chatter, though Wes was slightly subdued, that no one noticed Kurt when he stopped walking and turned the other way. The further away from the canteen Kurt got, the less people, and consequent noise, filled the hallways. Soon, all Kurt could hear was the sound of the punch-bag squeaking as it swung in the Gym.

He felt his heart pick up it's pace, but he refused to succumb to his panic this time, not when he was so sure that Blaine didn't actually hate him.

He stood in the doorway to the gym, looking once more across a dimly lit room towards Blaine. Blaine hadn't bothered getting changed, as that was still difficult for him, and because of his injury he could only punch with his right fist, but that didn't seem to be hindering him too much.

Blaine wasn't crying, but his eyes looked slightly too bright and slightly too wet. Kurt made to move towards him, but stopped himself before Blaine noticed him.

What if Blaine didn't want anyone to see him like this?

What if Blaine got angry _at_ him for being there?

Then, Blaine made a frustrated sound and his hand flew up to the straps on his support, hastily trying to undo them. Kurt forgot about his predicament and surged forwards, clasping Blaine's good hand between both of his and pulling it away from his shoulder.

Blaine didn't look up at Kurt, instead focusing on his hand, which Kurt now felt silly holding on to. He didn't let go though and was both surprised and relieved when Blaine gave one of his hands a little squeeze.

Blaine was such an enigma, swinging from calm to angry at a moments notice; acting polite but going practically savage on the punch-bag. Kurt barely knew anything about the boy, but no matter how scared he got, he still wanted to know more.

There was only one thing that, to Kurt, was obvious about Blaine, and that was that he didn't trust Stephanie at all.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I should be marched out and publicly condemned for how long it took me to write this chapter - it's not even that I'm suffering from writer's block, I'm actually suffering from 'writer's flood' as I just have so many ideas, and I end up writing little fragments of other chapters before I finish the one I'm on..._

_I really should stop that, otherwise I'll get nowhere._


End file.
